all the angels in heaven
by daffidil
Summary: Draco is invited to the Wedding of the Century and learns about one of the guests' intriguing secret. it's the start of a beautiful friendship, which is tested when a mysterious spell is cast... {rated M to be on the safe side...}
1. Chapter 1

_**author's note: {this story sprouted from the journey my imagination went on after having come across photo's of the guy who played Neville Longbottom, and the transformation he seems to have undergone during teenage... a fine looking chap he is now, and an ideal partner for someone in my universe...}**_

* * *

**1. **

The bed still feels warm, where ten minutes ago there was a body to snuggle up to. Draco's hand slides over the spot under the duvet, remembering fondly the night that passed, when he had found himself making love to the man he least expected to ever have make love to. But then life has weird ways of throwing you off guard, he noticed more than once before last night.

Last night, when he declared his feelings, for the first time meaning every syllable of the words that described them. It took him by surprise, those feelings first of all, and the need to tell them to this guy, this lovely, beautiful, sweet, funny, brave, wonderfully sexy guy. Draco feels fuzzy inside just thinking back to the night, and a daft smile takes over his face. Are they bloody butterflies in his stomach?! Yup, they sure are, and he knows they'll hang around for a while to come yet.

* * *

**some months earlier  
**On the mantelpiece, leaning against a small statue of a dragon, a piece of paper twinkled away, and Draco was getting a tad annoyed at its blatant jolliness. For the past week, to be precise, as it arrived a day after he'd come back from a weekend at his mother's place, and it had taken him all that time to open the thing up, as he'd recognised the letters on the red wax seal on the back. They were H and P, and in his memory that could only mean it came from Harry Potter. And Merlin only knew why.**  
**

A wedding, it turned out after he opened the parchment carefully and was met with forty fluttering white paper butterflies, a few flying in his face, the rest erratically filing the space of his living room and making a strange flapping noise as they found their way out of the nearest window. Draco saw them go, and then turned his attention to the writing in the parchment, which had swirly letters proclaiming the forthcoming happy event.

Mr Harry Potter and Ms Ginny Weasley

together with their families

request with pleasure the company of

Draco Malfoy and guest

to celebrate their wedding.

This will take place on June 23rd,

at the Diggory Estate

rsvp

He was glad he was given the option to cop out, bewildered as he was at the notion as to why he was asked in the first place, then remembered a pleasant conversation they had a while back, at a party of a mutual colleague, and he supposed that somewhere in the thinking of the Gryffindor Glory Boy was the idea that Draco Malfoy should be invited to the wedding of the century… As a kind of way to put things right, maybe? Gloss over the past? How do these people think? 'And guest…' what guest?! Oh, partner… If he'd had one, of course… Draco cringed a little. Harry Potter had assumed that there was a guest to bring, obviously ignorant to the fact that he hadn't dated anyone (seriously) for years. Would one night stands count? Draco grinned.

He'd placed the card back on his mantelpiece, and tried hard to forget about it. There was plenty to get on with at his work, as well as his mother who'd had a nervous breakdown, and soon the card was twinkling away mostly unnoticed, gathering dust, and the whole wedding was consigned to a crevice of his mind. Until he bumped into Ron Weasley – of all people – in Diagon Alley, where he was hoping to find a book that might cheer his mother up. She had been lonely and sad since his dad had been in Azkaban, and he'd done his best to make her feel better for years, but now it seemed she was ready to slip into a kind of lethargy, one that scared the hell out of him. Consumed with a steely determination he was browsing the Self-Help section of _Flourish & Blotts_, which was pretty vast, and was unaware of others hovering around in the same section. While walking backwards, looking sideways at the titles on the backs of the books, he nudged the back of someone else, and when he looked around to apologise, he recognised the ginger mop of Weasley, who had a similar surprised look on his face.

'Oh hi,' he stumbled, smiling awkwardly. 'Sorry I… um…'

'That's okay, don't worry mate,' Weasley answered, grinning his usual inane grin, and stuck his hand out. 'You here on your own?'

'Yeah, looking for a book for my mother. She could do with something uplifting. Thought I might find something here…'

'Oh, right... Have you seen Luna's book yet?' Weasley proffered, pointing towards the novels, 'Apparently very cheerful, I've been told… Hermione swears by it…'

Great, a book condoned by Granger. Draco shook his head, then said, 'Thanks, I'll have a look later.'

'How is your mum now? Is your dad still…'

'Azkaban? Yup… Best place for him, really…' Draco said, while glazing over slightly.

'Oh, sorry, I didn't know… I know you testified against him… Are you…?'

'Not talking? Pretty much… My mother is still slightly depressed, not over my father, more the past twenty years that have taken their toll… There's only so much a person can take…' he produced a watery smile, then changed tacks, 'You okay? Still working as an Auror?'

'Yeah, with Harry and a few of the other guys from our year. Working out good, really. Lots of work to do… You?'

'Working at the department of Mysteries. Plenty to do there too,' he grinned. 'Amazing what's still left from the war…'

'God, yeah… We still find spells and curses that have been set years ago… Even before either of us were born…'

'Frightening, when you think of it…' Draco said thoughtful. 'Well, it'll keep us in work for a while to come, eh? What are you looking for here?'

'Looking for a gift, for Harry and Ginny's wedding.' Weasley went on.

'Oh, yeah, that's coming up soon, isn't it?' Draco remembered.

'I heard he invited you? Are you going?' the ginger carried on.

'Not sure yet… I haven't decided to be honest…' Draco smiled. God, he'd forgotten all about it… Probably too late if he even wanted to cancel. 'Day after tomorrow, isn't it?'

Weasley nodded, then pointed towards a couple that were standing a bit further away, browsing the fairy cards. He recognised the form of Luna Lovegood easily, as she still dressed like she had three wardrobes to choose from, none of them in any way related to each other. The guy was not someone he knew. Good looking, but unfamiliar.

'Should go back to my company, we were going to have some lunch if I was ready here,' Weasley smiled. 'Come and say hello!'

Fuck, Draco thought. Now I'm stuck with a load of bloody Gryffindors in a bookshop… But before he was able to think of an excuse, the couple had spotted him and came towards them beaming like the sun.

'Hi Draco,' the girl lilted in her usual Irish accent. 'How nice to see you here!'

He swore she was about to leap around his neck for a hug, but he managed to convey his discomfort with this notion, and she averted her leap into a handshake, and all was well.

'Hey,' said the guy he didn't know, in a deep voice. He also smiled very coyly, as if there had been history between them, but Draco couldn't think of what to save his life.

'Draco, Luna, and Neville…' Weasley spoke. At that point Draco froze.

Neville?! Neville Longbottom?! What the fuck?! The guy that was standing in front of him, all athletic body and gorgeous smiles was Neville 'Podgeface' Longbottom?! What the hell happened to him after the war?!

No way…

'Hi…' eventually escaped his mouth, his astonishment hardly concealed. 'Nice to see you…'

_Very nice to see you…_

'You're looking well,' declared the angels in heaven.

_Not as well as some of us here…_

'Thanks… You too…'

_Please let the ground swallow me up, please apparate me away from here, please, please…_

'Well, we're off, nice to have spoken to you, Malfoy. Maybe see you on Saturday?' Weasley said, trying to catch his eye.

'Yeah…' Draco said. And watched the threesome leave the bookshop in a haze, his eyes on the body of a miraculously transformed former classmate, not really being aware of where he was and what he was doing there. 'Maybe…'

He never found a book for his mother, didn't look at Luna Lovegood's novel about nifflers and wrackspurts. In the end he settled for a bunch of twinkling roses, and made his way to his families' residence, where he spent the evening talking to his mother (as opposed to talking _with_ her) and going for a walk around the estate with her, then Floo-ing himself back to his place (a bright white house, built in the 1930's, right by the ocean, on the west of Scotland) and going over some reports that had to be finished the day before, after which he fell into a restless sleep.

The following day was a fairly usual Friday: tidying up loose ends of the week before, chatting with his colleagues about plans for the weekend (three were married with kids and mentioned Quidditch matches and unicorn riding lessons, another was a staunch bachelor and she was off to meet her parents in Scotland, and then there was Elaine from admin, who had only two weeks ago stopped making a pass at Draco, after she'd seen him snog the face off on of the pretty guys from another department in the Documents Destruction Room when they thought they were going to be alone and a quick grope would go by unnoticed. He had told her many times before that he was gay, but she wasn't convinced by his words. His actions appeared to be a different matter altogether. She said she'd be going to Harry Potter's wedding, as her brother was the official wedding photographer and he'd sneaked her in as his assistant. Apparently she'd had a crush on Potter since she was six…) and getting in some shopping from the supermarket in the Muggle village he lived near.

Less usual was the choosing of the outfit he was going to wear the next day. How formal was this do going to be? There were Weasleys involved, so it was never going to be ultra-formal (as the wedding of one of his distant cousins, a few years before, was, and he felt quite underdressed in his robes and shiny black shoes, compared to the way his uncles and cousins were turned out). He decided it was very likely not going to be anything as strict as a Malfoy-do, so he settled for his dark green, velvet suit, those shiny shoes and a black shirt and tie. He knew how handsome he looked with that shirt, and god knows who he might pull there, in a room full of Gryffindors, and probably a few Ravenclaws thrown in for good measure. Maybe it wasn't too late to ask Blaise to be his 'guest'…

The thought of being stuck in a hall full of his former rivals suddenly struck him as being fairly suicidal… What if some hadn't forgiven him, like Potter and Weasley had? What if they still carried a grudge towards him, over what his family had done in the past, how ruthless he himself had defended Lord Voldemort's beliefs and notions about a world without half-bloods or Muggle-born wizards in it…? He was still very surprised that Potter had forgiven him, all those years ago, after the trials. And that Weasley, who he had been so rotten to for so long, seemed to let bygones be bygones, and talked to him like they were mates, as he had in Flourish & Blotts. And how Lovegood was pleasant to him, even wanted to hug him – what had he done to deserve that? Only because he testified against his father, and the other Death Eaters? Was that enough to earn their respect, their trust? And the way Longbottom…

Shit… Neville Longbottom… How he appeared to moon over him, like a schoolgirl… What would Lovegood have thought of that then? Her being his girlfriend. Wife. Whatever…

He fell asleep with thoughts of Longbottom slowly running along the beach near his house, in nothing more than a pair of shorts, as the spray of the sea moistened his body and he looked absolutely gorgeous in the sinking evening sun…

The Saturday of the wedding came and Draco managed to oversleep, giving him a lot less time than he would've liked to get ready. The wedding was in Devon, on the Diggory estate, which was floo-able, so he knew he would probably be okay. He had a quick breakfast, made sure he had the present (the small good-luck charm dragon statue that his aunt Lorelei made and he had delivered the day before) ready to take with him, and checked to see in the mirror if he indeed looked as stunning as he wished to, without of course overshadowing the bride and groom.

Oh yeah, the bride and groom… Almost forgot about them… Potter was excited that last time he spoke to him, and he looked it too. In a nice way, the way Potter always looked when he'd won at Quidditch, or some other victory at Hogwarts. Sweet, is what he looked, Draco thought. Potter looked sweet. There was a time when he almost fancied him, but hat never really came to anything. He never got beyond sweet, as opposed to someone like Oliver Woods, or Cedric Diggory, or that Russian bloke who came over for the Tri-Wizards Tournament… Fantastic at kissing as well, that Russian bloke… Draco found himself getting hot under the collar, and quickly thought of ways to calm himself down.

* * *

The Diggory estate was beautifully done up. There were flowers everywhere, Draco noticed as soon as he walked out of the Floo fireplace and imagined himself in a flower garden, when he was in fact in the hallway, and was met by two lilac coloured fairies, who escorted him to his seat in the beautiful garden, quite close to the front. He was sat next to two old ladies in their best frocks (one was bright purple, and the other emerald green, and both sported real flowers on the edges, held there by hundreds of tiny butterflies, all in various shades of green or purple). They nodded sweetly to Draco, and carried on their conversation. Draco had time to look around, see if there were any other Slytherins in the crowd, but saw nobody familiar. The chairs next to him were empty, until two fairies ushered some more guests his way, and Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom took their seats, greeting him first, then noticing the people in front of them and starting a loud chat about being late and the traffic in the Floo system being so busy, and Draco closed his eyes for a second to stop Lovegood's voice from getting on his nerves. Also the thought of Longbottom sitting there, wearing more than the shorts he dreamed him in last night, but still looking spectacular, was a bit much for him to take.

He was glad the service started, so that his neighbour would have to be quiet, and enjoyed the somewhat eccentric way in which it was conducted. He had been to a few weddings so far, his family being fairly traditional, and they all were almost identical, with the white doves, the choirs, the rings lowered by designated pixies, the band that tied them brought by unicorns. It was almost getting boring, but this wedding was different. There was no choir but a fiddler and Ginny Weasley's sister in law (as he was informed by Luna) who had a wonderful voice, the wedding-band was brought by a Hippogriff, and there wasn't a white dove in sight. He was clutching his handkerchief by the end, and was sniffing away in unison with the two ladies on his right, and Lovegood. And Longbottom, who was holding Lovegood's hand.

Draco talked to many people in the huge garden. He felt okay, nobody made him feel unwelcome, and the raspberry wine was delicious. He sat down under the rhododendron near the lake to think about the day, after he'd spoken to Potter (who was over the moon with excitement) and Mrs Potter (who was her usual chilled self) and congratulated them on their marriage. Was he thinking of marriage himself, Potter asked him. No, he said, obviously not… Nobody to marry to, for a start… Shame, Potter said. It's nice to find someone special in your life… Yeah, Draco said, and smiled. It probably is.

He almost didn't notice that the seat next to him was taken. Deep in thought, the world was gone for a minute, and when a voice started talking, Draco almost jumped out of his skin.

'Oh, sorry, didn't mean to scare you,' said the deep voice.

Draco looked sideways, and recognised Longbottom, with a glass of wine in his hand. 'Oh, hey. No, it's okay… I was just thinking…'

'Nice wedding, this… Mr Diggory and Mr Weasley did a great job getting it to look like this…'

'Yeah, they did… Nice place to start with though…' Draco said, avoiding his company's eyes, looking around the garden, watching multicoloured dragonflies hover over the water of the lake..

'Shame Cedric can't be here to enjoy it…'

'Yeah… Nice guy…' Draco saw the figure of the now deceased boy loom for a bit, and snapped himself out of it. 'Your wedding like this too?'

'My wedding?' Longbottom looked at Draco curiously. 'I'm not married…'

'Oh? I thought you and Luna…' Draco found himself flush. 'She's just your girlfriend then?'

'Luna?' he laughed now, out loud. 'We're only good friends… I'm not… I don't… I like guys…'

'Ah… I see.' Draco looked straight ahead. 'Me too…'

'I know…'

Draco now flicked his head to the side, staring at Longbottom, who was smiling.

'I've always known… Never liked you much, but I sensed that you were gay… I knew I was since I was twelve… Cos of Cedric…'

'You as well?!'

'Everybody fancied Cedric…' Neville sniggered. 'Mostly the girls, but I've seen many guys swoon over him… Even Harry… He was heartbroken when he died… That's why I was surprised that the wedding was going to be held here. I know that was mainly Mr and Mrs Weasley's decision, but still…'

'Harry Potter fancied Cedric Diggory?!' Draco blurted out.

'Shh! Keep your voice down,' Longbottom insisted, placing a hand on Draco's, and smiling carefully.

'Who'd have thought… The Golden Boy fancies boys…'

'Don't think he fancies boys, just Cedric.'

Draco giggled for a bit, and saw Longbottom snigger as well. The raspberry wine must've been kicking in. 'Still… Funny though…'

They talked jobs and life these days for a while, and he found out that Neville was teaching herbology at Hogwarts, as well as researching rare plants on the Irish mainland. He also lived alone, after having had a relationship with someone he met at teaching college which had gone sour, and spent most weekends going for long walks.

'Nice of you to come here, Draco. I think the wizard community has come a long way since the trials, and I know loads of people doubted you and your family for a long time, but I never did…' Neville's voice had gone down a couple of notches. 'I always knew you would come around…'

'Yeah right… After what I've done?' Draco looked to his side, and saw Neville blush. It looked beyond charming… It looked hot… 'I'm still amazed that his lot haven't lynched me by now…' His own voice had gone down a few notches.

'You know in the war, at Hogwarts, I was so fired up, so ready to knock someone's block off, which is completely not like me, and then I saw you at the end, with your family, and your doubt, your disgust with it all, and I knew I had been right… And I hated myself for knowing that… That I was not in line with the Dumbledore Army, with the party-line… That I would've defended you…'

'You would?' Draco was whispering now.

'With my life…'

'Shit…'

'I know…'

Draco moved his hand towards Neville's, who pulled his back, and with a wrought smile strode off towards the drinks table, disappearing in the throngs of dancing guests.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

The calm of the lavatories was a blessing, Neville found, so he stayed there for a while longer than was strictly necessary. Every now and then people walked in and out, chatted a bit, either to each other or to him, but on the whole he was left to himself, and he had the time to think, to get his head together, stop himself from going loopy.

_With his life_? Had he really said that to Draco Malfoy? It had been true, but still, you don't say stuff like that to a guy you hardly know. Least of all Draco Malfoy. Whom he'd quietly fancied for a very long time. Since way before the war. But Malfoy didn't know that. Well, not until now, that was…

Bloody hell… A few glasses of raspberry wine and he was ready to throw himself at the first attractive bloke he spoke to… Cos Draco Malfoy was that at the very least – attractive. His sleek blond hair was now cropped a lot shorter than he remembered and was styled so that it looked a bit scruffy, making him look more boyish that he ever had during his Hogwarts years, and making all sorts of strange things happen to Neville's state of inner peace. And his face looked even more alluring than he remembered. His light grey eyes, and his sharp cheekbones, and that slight sardonic slant his mouth made… When he'd spotted him in the bookshop, while he was there with Luna and Ron, his heart almost jumped out of his chest, so strong were the feelings that came rushing back since he'd made them go away, years ago.

Neville's life _since_ Hogwarts had been nothing like it had been _during._ He liked it calm and slightly dull, knowing what was going to happen, and who it was happening with. He had enjoyed his time at the teaching college, had a few friends there, met Orlando, a guy who he liked a lot, and he seemed to like him back, and they settled into a pleasant routine, moved in together after they both graduated, and life was good. Although he remembered most of his time at Hogwarts fondly, it also left him with an anxiety, and when he slept, dreams of the war and its enormous drama would come playing havoc with his nerves. Only while he first was with Orlando was he free of nightmares. When they returned, two years ago, Orlando was unable to see Neville in such torment, didn't have a clue how to help him and moved to the spare bedroom. After a few months their relationship fizzled out, and Neville was for the first time in his life alone. His grandmother had died three years after the war, leaving him the house, and although it took him a while to get used to it, having the place to himself was really rather nice. The nightmares kept coming back, but his therapist was good at reassuring him that writing about them made them less scary, and the self-combustion spell he put on the pieces of paper usually gave a hint of satisfaction.

The one thing that had been exactly the same as during Hogwarts was his inability to stay cool around guys he fancied. He was aware of his physical change since teenage, his matured body and face attracting the odd wolf-whistle (both guys and girls, to his confusion), that he had made a conscious decision to do something about this teeth (as they had always bothered him), but that never changed the way he perceived himself – as being gawky and unappealing, and therefore way out of reach of guys that he actually fancied. Like Draco. So he didn't even try. Orlando had to cajole him into going on a date with him, in year three, and he almost talked himself out of it, being so incredibly nervous, and convinced that he was being set up for a bad joke. But the date came and went and Orlando didn't leave him. Until, of course, he did…

Luna found him still in pensive mode on the bench outside the cubicles, an hour later.

'I was worried about you, Neville… I couldn't find you anywhere! I thought you were taken by some nasty nargles. Are you okay?'

'Yeah, I'm fine, Luna,' Neville said as he smiled up at his friend. 'Just needed to work something out.'

'Are you coming to dance with me?' Luna turned around to make him aware of the music that was played by Ginny's favourite band, then holding out her hand.

Neville sighed, knowing he wanted to but also worried that Draco might spot him and convince himself of his complete preposterousness and not want to speak to him ever again. Like he hadn't in the past seven years anyway, so what was he concerned about?

He smiled at Luna and took her hand, reluctantly being led to the dance floor, where heaps of fireflies illuminated the area above. The appearance that gave made Neville smile, and a quick look around made sure that Draco wasn't near the dance floor. He wasn't spotted at all, to Neville's regret, spending the rest of the evening dancing with Luna and chatting with Harry and Ron and Hermione, while casting a glance around the estate every now and then to see if the blond young man he almost befriended that evening was anywhere to be seen.

Despite the lovely evening, where drinks rolled freely and he was chatted up by various guests, Neville went home with a slight feeling of frustration. He had been so close in getting to know Malfoy better, in moving on from the past, but it wasn't to be.

* * *

Rain streamed down the big window of his house, where Draco was nursing a glass of fire whiskey, sitting in the comfy chair, staring out over the beach. South west Scotland was covered under a huge rain cloud, as he noticed when he floo-ed himself back from the wedding, an hour before. He had left the bed sheets he had hung out to dry earlier that day, and they now looked rather sad in the dripping rain. He wasn't bothered, other stuff was occupying his mind, and in a haze he had pulled open the door of the cabinet in which the tumblers were kept, fished out the bottle of the drink he required, then poured himself a very generous glass and planted himself on the chair, where he stayed for hours. Staring at the rain. Picturing the face of Neville Longbottom. Trying to erase this face from his brain. Failing. Being reminded of his smile, how his teeth weren't unsightly anymore, how his hands looked strong and beautiful. And his voice… Draco felt himself getting warm at the thought of Longbottom speaking to him. Neville… Could he call him Neville? Were they close enough for that yet?

Fuck it, he thought. I don't need anybody to tell me what I call someone I like… Someone I really like… Someone I wouldn't mind snuggling up to on the sofa…

He smiled at that last thought. He hadn't wanted to snuggle up to anyone for ages. He rarely felt that so strongly for anybody, apart from his mum when he was five, but those days had been long gone. So… Interesting… Affection was creeping into his thoughts about Longb-… Neville… Where the hell was thing going?

He swirled his drink around his glass a bit, trying very hard to disperse the past train of thought he had, but failed. He put his glass down and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would make him feel better.

He drifted into an agitated sleep, dreaming of trolls and slimy ogres that seemed set on squashing him to death. He managed to escape time after time, rescued by shifting landscapes and re-emerging in different places altogether. When he was about to be tortured by Lord Voldemort, who was wielding a elder wand, about to fling an _Avada Kedavra_ his way, he saw the form of a dark haired, tall, strong man appear to his left, and he heard an_ Expelliarmus_ shouted from the top of the man's voice, saw the elder wand flung to the floor, and Lord Voldemort shrivel down to nothing but a heap of leaves on the floor, and the man walked up to him, quietly smiling at him, and he realised, through the veil of his dream, that the man was none other than Neville.

At which point he woke up, and stared groggily at the darkness outside.

The rain had stopped, and Draco wandered off to the bedroom. The house was dark, and he knocked into a few items of furniture, but he was too drowsy to be very bothered. He fell into his bed, where he continued his sleep until well into the morning.

The next day he spent gong for a very long walk along the beach, banning all thoughts of tall, dark, handsome former classmates, then catching up on work he'd neglected for months due to boredom, and was ready to tackle the week ahead.

* * *

_Hogwarts students can be so cruel. Surely we weren't anything like this, back in the days?_ Neville tried to salvage his shirt from the mucky gloop that one of his pupils had managed to cover the greenhouse in, minutes earlier, as a way to pull a prank on him. Neville had been deep in thought when he heard an explosion, and the next thing he saw was the blue gloop that was everywhere, most of all his clothes, and his hair and he heard muffled giggling of the rest of the class. Eighteen third years with way too much knowledge of making Blue Blubberpeaches explode… Great…

The stuff came off fabric with great difficulty, Neville noticed. He'd sent the class away to report with Professor McGonagall, which would give him time to clean up and find another shirt in his room, before his next class would start. The laundry spell he tried had not been very helpful thus far.

The past three weeks had found Neville drift off during class quite a few times. Minerva had talked about it during one of the staff meetings, told him to buckle up a little, cos a dreamy teacher would be an easy target for the students. And Neville had taken that on board, cleaned up his act, stopped himself from glazing over too much, for at least one whole day. Until musings of a certain blond guy would inadvertently drift back into his thoughts.

As he walked back to his quarters through the long, dim corridors, he heard a group of students whisper to each other agitatedly, nudging and pointing through the glass-less window of the walkway ahead, which looked out over the courtyard, and wondered what all the fuss was about. He followed the direction of the pointed fingers and let his gaze fall onto the square below, which was filled with students talking about the Quidditch match they'd seen the day before, and a few teachers discussing something or other. He recognised his colleagues from Divination and felt something like a lightning bolt go through him when he saw the messy blond hair of Malfoy, and realised that the girls' excitement was directed at his form. He knew Draco Malfoy had a bit of standing, especially with Slytherin students, and some of the girls in general, as he heard them talk about him sometimes during class, when they should really be concentrating on the plants he was teaching them about. He had found himself nailed to the floor listening to the female students talk about the delights of Draco Malfoy, after they'd seen a picture of him in the Daily Prophet, or there was an article about him in _Lumos! magazine._

What was Draco Malfoy doing here?! He wasn't a teacher. He worked for the ministry, so unless there was something weird going on, why was he in Hogwarts?

He decided to ignore this issue, and continue to his rooms to get changed. He chose another shirt, put his dirty one in the laundry basket, ready to be picked up, and looked in the mirror to see if he was presentable again. Just in case…

Just in case what? He might run into Malfoy? Make sure to leave a good impression? Cos that really worked so well the last time… At least there was no raspberry wine now to make himself look completely daft. Just a dollop of blubberpeach stuck in his hair…

He removed the blue gloop from where it was hanging in his locks, and went back to the direction of the classroom, getting ready for his next group which would be his last for this week, so there was a smidgen of joy in his thoughts. Year sevens, all ready to face the world, and fairly serious. He liked this group, reminding him of his last year – well, the calmer times, obviously…

As he turned the corner to the big oak door that would lead to the greenhouses, he found himself staring into beautiful grey eyes.

'Nev… Longb… Hi!' he heard the voice that belonged to the grey eyes mutter. Smiling eyes, as well.

Neville smiled back. 'Hi, Malfoy.' Wow, that rolled out quite composed.

'How are you?' Malfoy asked, and Neville swore he could hear a hint of coyness in his voice, but put that down to wishful thinking.

'I'm good, thanks… Just on my way to my last class for this week… You alright?'

He saw Malfoy nod, looking a bit pensive.

'Yeah, I'm fine. Here for a case, actually. Strange to be walking these halls again. I haven't been here for so long… You?'

'Um, I teach here… So yeah, quite often,' Neville smiled and notice the tension ease straightaway.

'Yeah, of course… I noticed you earlier on. You looked a bit done in, actually…'

'Blubberpeaches… Couple of Year Three's worked out how they could make them explode…'

'Oh wow… We didn't until year five…' Malfoy giggled, which made him look rather yummy. 'Sorry, must've been annoying for you…'

'Well, yeah… But you learn to live with it though… Perks of the job…' Neville smiled demurely now. He dared not look at Malfoy, who had thus far done all he could to be nice and bloody attractive. Wonderful…

'Hey, listen, Longb…'

'Please call me Neville… We're not seventeen anymore…'

'Alright, but only if you stop calling me Malfoy.' That smile again.

'Deal.'

'So, Neville, would you like to go for a drink with me after your class has finished? I have some stuff to talk to McGonagall about and I should be done at half four, so…'

'Okay!' Neville answered a tad too eagerly.

'Good… Shall I meet you at…' Draco looked thoughtful, trying to find a good spot, but noticing he wasn't that familiar with Hogsmeade anymore, 'Actually, where would you suggest? Is The Three Broomsticks still any good?'

'God, no! That's a real dive now… I know a nice place in Godric's Hollow, they do nice food there, we'll be left alone as well there.' Neville blushed, suddenly realising the implications of that last sentence. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to…'

'That's okay, Neville. Not out for publicity much these days…' Draco smiled a half smile. 'And I was hoping to spend a bit of time with you on your own anyway…'

'You… I… Was… um… oh…'

'Okay, I'll see you at six then?' Draco smiled again, and walked off, turning back to give him a quick wave, Neville left nailed to the floor.

* * *

The pub that Neville had meant was indeed quiet, with only about three couples, a small family party and a few individuals sitting at tables and the bar, casting a subtle glance his way and was delighted that he noticed Longbottom sit at the middle of the bar, drinking something, and seeming equally delighted to see Draco arrive. His gesture was a lot less subtle than the other guests, but then he was his date… Or whatever this was going to be called… Meet-up? _Rendezvous?_ He walked up to Neville, who had jumped off his chair and walked up to him half way, then leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek, which Draco misread and planted his lips on the ones that were suddenly very close to his face.

They hung on for a few seconds, Draco feeling the slight moistness against his mouth, giving him a warm glow, until Neville pulled away, and produced a very confused expression, which charmed Draco to bits. He smiled back and apologised. Some of the patrons seemed intrigued by what was going on, having recognised at least one of the pair, and Neville steered them away from the main room, walking into a kind of back room, which was screened partly by a large red velour curtain, and lit with a few big white votive candles sitting on holders that hung on the walls.

'Romantic…' Draco remarked, grinning cheekily. In the dark of the room Neville's blushing face entranced Draco more than he could say.

The past few weeks he hadn't really thought about Neville much, having successfully banned thoughts of Neville with a weakened _Obliviate_ charm, making his growing feelings for his former classmate become manageable once more. Instead he threw himself into going out with guys he met at a bar in London, but felt less and less fulfilled as each guy followed the next. So he stopped going, and spent the week before he had to go to Hogwarts at home reading.

The _Obliviate_ charm stopped working as soon as Longbottom was within view though, he noticed.

They were seen to their chairs by a sweet-looking middle-aged lady, who kept producing little smiles at the lads.

'_Oi'll_ bring you lads a menu-_carrd_ in a sec, _olroight_?' she spoke in her broad Cornish accent. The men nodded to her, and sat down, trying to acclimatize to the dim surroundings, having only each other as company.

'You good?' Draco broke the silence, trying not to stare at his companion too much. He didn't want to put him off again, like he almost did when he misread the kiss on the cheek earlier.

'Yeah, I'm fine… Bit tired from a busy week at school, but no, nice to be here…'

'Good. I have been hoping to speak with you since the wedding…' which was true, but not only in the way that Neville seemed to be so incredibly delighted by, going by the expression of joy on his face, a sentiment Draco certainly shared.

'Oh?'

His work for the Department of Mysteries had made him do some research into the reports they had received of some people who had been at Potter's wedding last month, and all appeared to be having spells of inertia, and he had received a note from Professor McGonagall saying that Neville Longbottom, now a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, appeared to be incredibly absent-minded, for no apparent reason, and although Mr Longbottom was known to have the odd daydream, this was – in her eyes - getting out of proportion. Could someone from the ministry please have a look into this, please? And Mr Glarefield, Draco's superior, had the bright idea of sending Draco. There was no point in trying to persuade Mr Glarefield to send someone else, cos as soon as he'd sense the reason Draco wasn't so keen, he'd make his life a living hell, and the chance of a transfer to another department (which Draco had applied for a few months before) near impossible. So Draco went, knowing he'd have to deal with his old school, and the guy he knew had a thing for him…

'Um, Neville… I need to tell you something, the reason why I've been at Hogwarts these past few days…'

'Have you been here a few days already? I only saw you earlier on,'

'Yeah, I've been doing research, in Snape's old office, would you believe?'

'Oh? You mean…'

'It appears that someone has cast a spell at Potter and Weasley's wedding, and about twelve people so far have been identified as having been affected. One of them might be you…' Draco's voice had dropped in volume, knowing he was about to seriously pee on Neville's party.

'I'm what? Affected? By what…?' Neville looked confused, reminding Draco of the way he could look particularly dense back in the days. It made him smile now though. He was touched by Longbottom, and he realised he was way further gone than he would've wanted.

'Have you been feeling slightly… odd? Since the wedding…?' Draco tried. For some reason he touched Neville's hand, trying to comfort him.

'Odd?' Neville looked his way, then smiled, 'What, more than normal, you mean?'

Draco smiled back, squeezing the hand in his. 'Possibly…'

'I have been feeling slightly odd, yes… But I put that down to… To… Making a total fool of myself with you, in the garden…'

'Did you? I didn't notice…' Draco looked at Neville incessantly, trying to work out what he meant to say. 'I thought you were adorable at the wedding…'

'I… What?!' Neville looked at the man on the other side of the table in disbelief. 'I have... I have been… Never mind… Since the wedding I have noticed that there are parts of the day missing, if that's what you mean?'

'Something like that, yeah…' Draco closed his eyes, knowing the questions he was going to ask would probably be pretty awkward. 'Do you keep… Drifting off into intense daydreams? More than normal, I mean?'

'Um, yes…' Neville looked uncomfortable, and seemed relieved when the buxom hostess was back with two pieces of parchment, and two glasses of mulled pumpkin juice.

'Compliment on _the 'ouse_,' she smiled, giving Draco a quick wink. 'You boys call me when you need anything!'

Both smiled at the woman, and went back to each other, one slightly confused, the other feeling more and more uneasy.

'Okay, it seems you've been affected. There's one more symptom that you could have, that would make it a definite…' Draco sounded uneasy, not wanting to look at Neville, afraid of his reaction.

'What is it?' Neville's voice was strong. 'What do I have?'

'The spell is called _Infatio Malevolencio_, apparently making those who have had an unrequited crush on someone for years slowly turn crusty and in a stupor… You haven't been having…' Draco wished he was sent to someone he had no feelings for at all, and hated what he knew would happen to Neville in the long run. "Some of the people affected get scales on their skin...'

Neville looked at the back of his hand, and stared at it in disbelief. Small scales were appearing on his skin, very slowly, and very definitely.

'When thinking a lot about the person that the fixation is on, the scales can apparently multiply fast. I suppose…' Draco tried to explain.

'Shit!'

'Sorry, Neville…'

'This… You…' Neville looked devastated. Intensely sad. And very angry. 'I've had a crush on you for years…!' By now he was almost crying. 'Go away, Malfoy! Just… Go!'


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

Draco must've drifted off a bit, cos it takes a while before he notices he's being kissed. His mouth is very gently touched by another, and he can comprehend what this means, but it takes a while before he realises where he is, and who is by now softly licking his lips, ever so carefully. Draco opens his mouth a bit, to indicate he likes what he feels, and hopes that the kiss is deepened, but nothing much happens. Nothing more than the gentle caressing and ghosting of his skin.

'Wake up, you sleepy head,' whispers a sweet voice.

Draco knows that voice. It's the most beautiful voice he knows, and it belongs to the most wonderful person in the world, who is now his beloved. The one he declared his undying love for, the evening before. The only one who truly returned his feelings, and Draco still can't believe how happy he is.

'No… I want you to wake me up…' Draco croaks groggily. And smiles through the fog of his sleep. 'Properly…'

'Oh, and what did you have in mind, may I ask?' the sweet voice asks. 'I've just brought you some tea and a bit of toast… Isn't that enough? What more can you possibly want?'

Draco notices that the body that belongs to the sweet voice and the gentle mouth is lying next to his now, not quite touching. He opens his eyes some more to look into hazel ones, piercing deeply into his. A hand is now touching his face, running long fingers along his temple, down to his cheeks, and on to his lips.

'I can think of a few things…' Draco hums, and moves his hand up into the dark hair of the man that's now moved his leg to touch his, hook it over Draco's and pulls him closer. The heat of his groin is multiplied by that of another's touching his, and sleep is very far off his mind by now. 'Oh God, Neville… Aah… There's a good place to start,' Draco breathes and captures the mouth of man who's now moved almost on top of him. His hands hold on to his body, from his hair, down to his back, and stop for a fraction of a second at the small mark on the shoulder. Draco flinches slightly, but deepens his kiss, presses his body against Neville's and loses himself in the sensations that overtake him.

'Suppose this will do then,' hums a voice that reminds him of angels. Very saucy angels at that…

* * *

**Earlier that month…**

One of the wards at St. Mungo's was specially designated for patients who had been affected by the _Infatio Malevolencio_ Curse, and most of the twelve beds were taken. People in varying stages, one in a severe coma, and members of families sitting by their sides. Or wandering around being unable to think of what to do.

Draco had been in and out of the ward this past week, investigating symptoms, working out ways of halting the effects, or reversing them, but nothing had worked so far. The patient that mattered most to him was the one nearest the nurses' post, and he'd practically parked himself in it, much to the frustration of the nurses trying to have some peace and quiet. At the same time they seemed to be quite touched by Draco's resolve. So they let him, and left him to think, to read, and to make calls with colleagues.

Neville had been brought in the morning after their meet-up. Apparently, according to Ron Weasley (who was now his nearest liaison auror), he got a call from Neville, making no sense whatsoever, but Ron decided to go and have a look anyway, having heard of this mysterious _Infatio Malevolencio_ curse that had hit a few people at Harry's wedding, and had a nasty shock when he saw his friend lying on the floor, next to the settee, covered in greeny-brown scales, and barely able to speak. He got an ambulance from St. Mungo's to come over straight away, where they weren't able to do much more than make him feel comfortable, and ease the pain caused by the scales on his skin.

On and off Draco had been in touch with people in his department who had vague notions of what could be done, but none of the things they suggested made much of a difference. The only thing that did was Draco sitting by his side. It appeared to make the symptoms somewhat less severe, making it possible for Neville to rest.

On the eighth day of Neville's admission the healer in charge of the medical side of the investigation called Draco in for a consult.

'It appears that most of the patients stay in a kind of stupor once they've reached the ward,' she said, while looking at the charts on the desk. Healer Bonville looked stern, as she always did. 'Only, your friend, Mr Longbottom, appears to be slightly improving, though not by much. What is it that you do to him, Mr Malfoy?'

Draco looked at her in disbelief.

'Does he improve? I haven't noticed…'

'He does, although as I said, only a touch…' Healer Bonville flicked through Neville's chart and pointed to the notes in the margins. 'Here it says that patient responds well to the presence of a certain person. This person being you…? He seems to be less green. Have you not noticed?'

'Um, no… I just sit with him, talk to him. He doesn't seem to respond much, but I do it anyway…'

'May I ask, Mr Malfoy, are you his lover?' Healer Bonville looked at Draco persistently, as if the information he might have would be significant.

'No, I'm not…' Draco answered with a slight hint of regret.

'Oh… The touch of a loved one is the only thing that seems to halt the symptoms from spreading thus far, we've gathered. Have you_ been _his lover?'

'No, we're just friends… Sort of… I know he likes me, or at least used to in the past, in that way, but we're not… involved,' Draco looked to see if what he said was in any way helpful, then glanced over to Neville's bed, and saw he was stirring slightly. 'Excuse me, Healer Bonville, but can I go back to him now. He seems to be in discomfort…'

She looked up to Draco and then on to Neville's bed and smiled. 'Yes, you may go. I shall contact you if we know more, or if more questions are needed…'

She touched his arm as if to give him some kind of encouragement and went back to her papers. Draco walked up to Neville's bed, still thinking about what Healer Bonville said, about a loved one's touch helping, and once he reached the bed, he touched Neville's hand. Just stroking the back of it, with his fingers. The scales put him off a bit, but not enough to stop. They felt soft, not as sharp and unpleasant as they looked. The stirring stopped. Draco sat down on the chair, and put Neville's hand in his, as if they were going for a walk. It felt nice. The skin on the inside of his hand was normal, and suddenly he felt a light squeeze, just ever so slightly. Draco looked up to see if Neville had woken up at all, but there was nothing more than he'd seen before. His eyes were closed, his breathing was calm, slow, and his scales were still there. He carried on sitting by the side of the bed, hand in hand, stroking the back of Neville's with his other hand, and somehow he felt the need to put a kiss on it. He moved his mouth to the scaled hand, and pressed his lips to it. Gently, as if he could damage Neville if he touched him too hard, but the scales were tough.

Not tough enough for a jolt to apparently go through the young man's body. Draco was shocked, thought he'd done some damage, and called for Healer Bonville, who came running out fast, chart in her hand.

'What's up?' she asked, looking at the patient in front of her.

'I… I kissed his hand and then he stirred quite forcefully, as if he'd been electrocuted or something.' Draco's voice sounded shaken.

'I thought you said you weren't his lover?' Healer Bonville said, looking sideways.

'I'm not… But I do like him… quite a lot…'

They both looked at Neville stirring in the bed, and Draco sat down again to touch his hand. 'It's okay, Neville, I'm here,' he mumbled kindly, and Neville returned to calm again.

'But you said… Wait a minute… Let's get this straight… You're not involved… But he fancies _you_?'

'I think so… He used to, back when we were at Hogwarts… But I wasn't interested then... Only, now I'm getting to know him, we've both changed due to the war and everything, and I guess I'm falling on lo-… Shit…' Draco got up from the chair and walked out the ward, leaving Healer Bonville very confused and Neville writhing in pain.

Shit, shit shit! Draco walked on until he could walk no further, reaching the bathrooms that hadn't been in use for many years. They reeked, but Draco didn't care. He was deep in thought, trying to work out what he had just said to Healer Bonville. He was falling in love… Seriously?! He was falling in love with Neville Longbottom?!

Like fuck he was…

Draco didn't fall in love with anybody, least of all a bloody Gryffindor dork like Neville Longbottom… No matter how hot he might have become…

But why not? What was so bad about this guy? He was sweet, and funny, and clever… And kind, and gentle…

And hot…

And a Gryffindor… He had slept in the same dorm room as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley… For years… He had fought against his family… He would've happily killed his dad... And him...

Or would he? Had he not said he would've defended him? What was it that he saw in Draco? And weren't they all on the same side, really? The war had been over for eight years, and he was still trying to work this out…?!

Neville Longbottom wasn't the same guy as he was back then, and neither was Draco… He hadn't allowed anyone in, so far. Scared to death they would hurt him, like his father had, like Lord Voldemort had… Like all men had so far… Why would Neville be any different?

And why had he been sitting by his side this past week, if he didn't give a monkey's…

He sat down on the stone ledge on the side, trying to regain his composure, when he saw the shape of an angel, floating around the room, as if it was biding its time. Draco was at first a little freaked, but kept looking at it, feeling strangely comforted. He then closed his eyes, and saw the scene he'd just left. The hospital ward filled with scaled and comatose people, family members, loved ones, and the presence of something he couldn't put his finger on.

'Why are you so scared, Draco?' said a voice so soft it was like mist. He opened his eyes to see that the angel was floating near him, smiling, translucent. 'Let yourself be loved… You deserve it…'

'Are you… Are you talking to me?' Draco stumbled, looking around.

'Yes… It's okay, I shall not hurt you… I'm here to help… I can see you're in pain… You don't need to be… He'll love you…'

'How do you know? _He'_s in pain, and I can't help him…'

'Yes you can… Be there for him now, and he will be there for you, always…'

Draco kept looking at the figure, convinced he was going mad, sleep deprived as he was.

'Go… Feel love… You will be okay…'

And with that the figure floated away, in the direction of the ward, and Draco stood up, willing to follow it on, until he realised he'd been talking to a figment of his imagination.

Surely that had been it…

He walked back to the ward, where Madame Hinkleby, head of the department, was sharing out tinctures for the patients who were able to take them, and smiled when she saw Draco.

'Go back to your chap, Mr Malfoy. He needs you…' she said in her soft voice.

He looked at Neville, who was squirming again, but he couldn't move. He was scared of the implications that his actions would bring. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist his feelings, that he'd want to kiss and touch, and he'd feel incapable of helping and that would hurt… But a gentle hand nudged him forward. And he walked on until he reached Neville's bed, where he sat down, and slumped. He looked at the hand he kissed, minutes before.

The scales had gone…

The scales had gone!

He touched the skin, and it felt soft, just how skin should be feeling. Draco smiled, and took Neville's hand in his, and kissed it again.

'Neville! The scales have gone! You know where I kissed you…' Draco laughed. He kissed the skin again, kissed his arm, and moved up to his face, and stopped himself from kissing his mouth, for a few seconds. A brashness overtook him, and he lowered his head, and grazed his lips on those of Neville's, and he could swear he felt he was kissed back.

'Madame Hinkleby! Healer Bonville! Come quickly!'

The other people in the ward looked towards him, curiously, wondering if he'd found a miracle cure. Draco smiled at them, so elated that Neville appeared to be making progress. He kept on holding his hand and sat on the bed, not wanting to leave Neville's side.

Ron Weasley, who had entered the ward while he was in the old bathroom, and had been talking to Healer Bonville, came along with them and looked confused at the scene on the bed.

'Are you supposed to be sitting on his bed, Malfoy? Aren't you crowding him out like that?' he grizzled.

'Mr Longbottom appears to be responding very well to the presence of Mr Malfoy, Mr Weasley, and the literature I've been looking into this morning showed that the only case ever recorded of this curse to have been solved, was one where the infatuation was answered. The person whom the feelings have been directed to responded with genuinely similar feelings, and the patient made a full recovery. Mind you, there was no mention of scales, so what can be done about this version is a mystery for now… Still, Mr Malfoy appears to have made a slight breakthrough, I see… ' She moved on to touch Neville's hand, which by now looked fully back to normal, although thus far that was the only part of his body to look like it used to.

'Are you… Do you love him, Malfoy?' Weasley asked.

'I think so…' Draco mumbled.

'Yeah, right…' Weasley gave him a look that showed his utter disdain, and turned to see how Neville was doing.

At that moment an awful scream was heard in the ward, and all eyes moved to look at the bed at the far end, where a mother was sobbing, slumped over the bed of her son, who lay there motionless.

'Can someone come and help!' she yelled. Healer Bonville and a few nurses already hurried towards them. The quiet in the ward was eerie, and Draco sat on the chair next to the bed, holding Neville's hand, putting it to his cheek, close to his mouth. Breathlessly watching Healer Bonville instruct one of the nurses to resuscitate the patient, but it appeared to be in vain. Neville squeezed Draco's hand, lightly, as he had done earlier, and seemed to have enough energy to pull Draco's hand towards his body, where he rested it on his chest.

Ron watched it all, nailed to the floor, unable to comment on any of what he saw. He knew the guy in the bed at the far end, he had been on a Health and Safety Spells Course with him, a couple of years back.

'He has two kids…' Draco heard Weasley mumble eventually. 'And a wife… Bloody unfair…'

'Yeah,' Draco answered, hanging on to Neville's hand. 'I know…'

The rest of the day went by in a kind of haze. The mood in the hospital was low, as the news of the death in the _Infatio_ ward got round. The inevitable reporters from The Prophet made their way in and Draco and Ron had to work together to keep them as far away from the patients as possible.

'What are they, vultures?' Ron said, not so much a question as a statement of his disgust. 'Will they stop at nothing…?'

The guys were sitting at a desk at reception, where normally an admittance witch would be seated, but she was now moved to further inside, where reporters wouldn't be able to seduce her to give away things she shouldn't or immobilise her in some way.

'Death sells… Apparently…' Draco answered the non-question. He remembered how reporters would disguise as waiters in restaurants, or delivery people when his father was first in Azkaban and a juicy story could possibly be gotten out of his mother, or one of the less loyal house elves. 'And despair…'

'For Merlin's sake… Do these folk have no pride?'

'Ehm… No?' He thought about imparting with a story about his father, but then believed that one of the items of furniture in the corner looked like it could've been transfigured by a clever reporter, and so he stopped talking.

'Why are you still here, Malfoy?' Ron asked suddenly, after a quiet spell.

'Why shouldn't I?'

'Cos Neville isn't really any of your business?'

'What, is he your friend only? Haven't seen you much in this past week…'

'It's been busy at work…' Ron tried to look angry, but knew he had been sussed out. He had indeed neglected his friend, and only partly because work was busy (which was true). His home life was hectic, his new hobby (firefly-fishing) incredibly fascinating, and Hermione was having a lot of trouble with their youngest, who was teething and hell to be around. Both Hermione and the baby… He told Draco, who burst out laughing.

'I can imagine…' he sniggered. 'I just hope that whoever I might end up with doesn't want kids…'

'Neville wants…' Ron realised what he was saying and shut up. 'Sorry…'

'No, that's fine…'

Silence hit the small room once again, and the men carried on being very watchful. After about an hour, Draco decided that it was time to get some others to watch the front door, and sent Ron off to find new aurors for the job.

When the replacements arrived he returned to Neville's side of the bed, or tried to, but felt somehow like he shouldn't. After what Ron said, about Neville wanting a family, he wasn't really that keen. A family was the last thing he'd want. Ever. With anybody… He could really see Neville being a dad, and a good one at that. A nurturing, sweet, attentive, lovely dad, whereas Draco had none of those attributes. He was reserved, and cold, and liked to keep to himself, and a kid would want none of those things. Surely? He didn't, when his own dad offered this to him…

Damn…

'Mr Malfoy,' he heard a voice say above his head. He looked up to see Madame Hinkleby gaze down on him, smiling. 'Mr Malfoy, Mr Longbottom is asking after you… Do you think…'

'Oh… Oh, yes, of course…'

He got up from his chair, and walked slowly to the bed, that had Neville in it looking so much better already. When he noticed Draco he lifted a hand as if to wave.

'Hey,' said a throaty voice, quietly.

'Hey,' replied Draco, unsure.

'Are you okay?' Neville asked, touching Draco's hand.

Draco looked at the young man in the bed, who looked like he'd been jumped on by a troll, and smiled.

'I should be asking you that…' he sat down on the chair.

'I was first…' Neville sniggered, which must've hurt, cos he also flinched.

'I'm fine, just thinking…' he sighed, then placed his hand on Neville's. 'You're looking a hell of a lot better, Nev…'

'I feel it… Thanks to you. Madame Hinkleby said that you hadn't left my side all week…' Neville smiled.

'I did what anybody…'

'Not anybody… Ron wasn't here, Luna only came here twice, and even Harry…'

'Harry was on a special mission in Siberia…'

'But you… You were here… I felt you… When I was gone, I felt you here…' he placed a hand on his heart, and Draco felt himself well up.

'Well, Madame Bonville said… She mentioned…'

'Only when a crush is returned with genuine feelings… I heard…' Neville smiled. 'Thanks…'

''What, for liking you?'

'For being here… I could've easily ended up like that guy over in the far corner… But I didn't…'

'Yeah, well… I couldn't let that happen now, could i?'

'Looks that way…'

Draco let go of Neville's hand, sighed very deeply and looked around the ward.

'You can go now if you want, Draco. You don't have to stay…' Neville smiled still, so sweetly. Draco realised how delightful his face looked when he did, making him even more handsome than he already was.

'I could, but then Madame Hinkleby would just miss me too much,' Draco sniggered. Neville laughed as well, again flinching when it hurt. He took Neville's hand, and pressed a kiss on it, still amazed at the softness of the skin on his mouth. 'I'm good… Not going anywhere…'

* * *

The days that followed were filled with writing of reports, answering questions of the Board of Mediwizards, sorting out his house (which looked like it had been visited by demented house-elves), and catching up with his messages from Blaize Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, who had married each other a few years back and now lived in Arizona and loved to write crazy, long letters. Very animated letters at that.

The witch who'd cast the _Infatio_ spell had come forward, in a bout of regret for having caused a death. She had only meant to wreak some havoc, get rid of her bad feelings. It turned out to be Elaine from admin, who'd had a crush on Potter, but was never even acknowledged by him, and sent away at the wedding. As an act of revenge she cast a spell on the fire dragons near the dance floor, inflicting all sorts of pain. She'd made sure that the spell was reversed, only it had been too late for one of the victims… She was also sent to Azkaban for a few weeks…

The time Draco had left he went round to Neville's house, making sure he was recovering well, now that he was alone and hadn't applied for Medic-elves to make life easier. He said they scared him…

Draco didn't particularly like Neville's house. It was a dilapidated Victorian building with many dark rooms, filled with loads of stuff, and it stank of old ladies. First thing Draco did was open all the curtains, and then the windows of which thee sash were still working, letting as much fresh air in as he could. When the stale air wouldn't shift, he decided that Neville was going to have to stay with him.

Which didn't go down well at first. Ron wasn't having it, he said, but then Draco reminded him that he wasn't doing much of the helping out, which worked, and so the two of them convinced Neville that The Beach House in Scotland was going to have to do as his recuperation place.

So that's where he was when Draco came home after an afternoon at work, having just finalised his report into the _Infatio Malevolencio Curse, _hearing that his superior was over the moon with it, and giving him a bottle of Lemon and Lime Brandy as a gift, and the promise of promotion as soon as it would arise. Draco smiled, said thanks and went home.

Neville was sitting on the terrace just outside of the living room, looking out over the sea, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. He was sitting in the big chair that had soft cushions in it, and he'd put a blanket over himself. Although it was August, it cooled down very quickly. He didn't hear Draco come in, so jolted a little when he heard the door close behind him.

'Medi-elf reporting for duty!' Draco quipped.

'Very poorly patient presenting for care…' was the answer. Neville looked around to greet his host, and nodded at the bottle of Brandy. 'Won the office-raffle?'

'Something like that… Mr Glarefield for once wasn't unhappy with my report, so he gave me this… Are you allowed booze yet?'

'Think so… Madame Bonville didn't say I couldn't yesterday…'

'You sure? I wouldn't want to have to live with your demise once again… Can't handle that…' Draco smiled at Neville, and was struck by the intense tenderness that came from his eyes. He looked away quickly, turned around to fetch some glasses and walked back to the veranda. He sat down next to Neville, poured himself and his guest a small glass, and passed it on. They toasted the good outcome of the tribulations of the past weeks, took a sip, and sat back, staring out of the water that gently splashed onto the beach, wave after wave rolling in.

Neville took Draco's hand in the silence that transcended over the veranda. He laced their fingers together, then ran his other hand gently over Draco's, and lifted it up for a kiss.

'Thanks again for all you've done, Draco… I wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for your love…'

Draco froze at that last bit. He got up from the chair and walked over to the edge of the veranda, staring out at nothing in particular.

Love? He'd felt love?

'What's up? Have I said something wrong?' Neville followed him, slowly. He tried to look into Draco's eyes, but couldn't. He was very far away.

'I don't do love, Neville… Just… Don't…'

'What do you mean? What would you call what you did in St. Mungo's? Work? You _do_ do love, Draco, and I know it…'

'I hurt people, Neville… I don't let anybody in, and I don't want you to get hurt by me…' he turned towards the sea some more, unable to face the man he had indeed fallen in love with.

'So? I've just survived a potentially fatal curse, and I've been held at knifepoint by a manic Death-eater… Death doesn't scare me… Life without you in it does…'

'Bollocks… You hardly know me…'

'I know enough… I know you care… You care for your mother, you care for me…'

'You want kids… I hate kids…'

'Who said that?!' Neville looked perplexed.

'Weasley… He said…'

'He said that I want kids? The fuck does he know about me?'

'You don't then?'

'Maybe… If all the bits of the puzzle fall into place… God, I don't know… I mentioned wanting them when I went to visit Ron and Hermione when their second one was born…'

'What, the demon child?' Draco remembered Ron's teething story. 'Sorry, carry on…'

'Well, yes, that one… I can't see into the future any more than you can, Draco… Let's just take this one step at the time, yeah?'

Draco sighed. He turned to face Neville, slightly humbled. And still terrified.

Neville moved a bit closer.

'Anyway, I believe you've tried to kiss me twice without my say-so, Mr Malfoy… Twice… I could probably sue you for harassment… Hitting on an immobilised patient…' he smiled mischievously now. 'Or maybe we can settle this amicably?'

'Maybe,' Draco whispered, still scared. 'Or may-… Hmph…'

Before he could finish his sentence he felt lips on his, soft, loving, warm lips and he could think no more.

'Okay…' Draco breathed after a few minutes had passed and he took a slight break from kissing Neville. 'I guess that's settled then…'

And he let himself be kissed again, and held tightly, and his arms wound around the tall body that was holding him. He felt good, for once, happy, and safe.

They sat down in the big chair on the veranda, embracing and caressing each other, carrying on the kissing, until it became too cold to be outside.

'Let's go inside,' Draco whispered. He got up and pulled Neville up towards him, and they embraced again.

'Thank you, Neville…' Draco murmured in his ear.

'For what?' he heard softly.

'For being so tenacious… Don't know if I'd have been…'

'I've wanted you since I was sixteen, Draco Malfoy… It's taken me all this time…' Neville pulled back a bit to be able to look into Draco's eyes. 'Slow, I think is a better word…'

'Dedicated?'

'Petrified you'd hex my balls off…'

'Neville!' Draco looked stunned. 'Why would I want to do that?!'

'Okay, plenty to talk to you about then, but not now,' Neville grinned, and pulled Draco into his house, to the bedroom, but hesitated when he reached the door.

'Go on then…' Draco sported that sassy smile again, and Neville felt himself get incredibly warm. He opened the door, noticed the sparse furniture, and the bed that wasn't made up, and pulled Draco inside. There he took off the t-shirt he was wearing, watched Draco do the same to the white buttoned shirt, felt he couldn't resist touching the surprisingly muscular chest that appeared, and ran a hand over the skin. He heard Draco shiver, sigh, and his breath get deeper, and within seconds they were kissing again.

'Oh, shit, Draco… It has been so long… I don't know if I…'

'Shh…' he put a finger on Neville's mouth, 'Don't worry… Just go with this one yeah?'

He undressed the gorgeous man in his arms, sliding hands over parts of his body that he'd only dreamed of, kissed him there too, undressed himself, and pulled him down on the bed with him. He felt Neville tremble slightly, and carried on caressing him, stroking his body, his back, his arms, his buttocks, until he was sure that he'd settled down somewhat.

While stroking his shoulder, he felt a slight crusty patch, and sneaked a peek at it, wondering if it was what he thought it was. He saw a spot the size of a Knut which had scales on it. He flinched slightly, taken back to the week before, when the man now in his arms, kissing his neck and getting him very close to a climax, was so near death, and it took all he had to get him back into the bedroom, which was speeded up rather a lot when Neville found the exact spot that drove Draco wild.

With a loud cry Draco came, and fell back onto the bed, hearing Neville soon follow his lead, and fall onto his chest, both heaving and out of breath.

They lay there for a long time, Neville overcome with emotions, Draco calm and blissed out.

'Love you, Draco Malfoy…' Neville eventually whispered. Draco kissed him, unable to say the words that he felt deep inside. He knew he would, soon, just not yet…


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

It must've been the poshest, most luxurious bed Neville has ever woken up in. He felt the comfortable mattress, the satin sheets, the snow goose-down duvet and probably same quality pillow – it was nothing he was very familiar with, apart maybe from that one time he was given the luxury suite by way of compensation in a swank hotel in Paris, when he went there with Orlando, and the room he'd booked had been given to someone else. But even that bed was not a patch on the one he was in now. Also, that room had been tidy, and the place he just now cast his eyes over was all but. Draco was a messy pup, that was clear… Funny, he thought. Wouldn't have guessed by looking at him. But then, he thought, people wouldn't probably guess that he himself was a bit of neat-freak… He had to be, he felt, living in his gran's house. She was very untidy, and in order for him to be able to find anything, he had to be on top of at least his own stuff. Which he was, to the point of obsessive.

The curtains were drawn, with enough of a gap for him to see the sun was shining, and he heard gulls in the distance, like he'd had in the past few days since he was teleported here by Ron and Draco, to aid his convalescing. He liked to hear the birds making their noises. It reminded him of the last time he had been to the South-West coast, with Luna. They'd booked a B&B together (separate rooms), and spent a week walking, and looking for seashells, and eating ice-cream, dodging seagulls who tried to nick their chips, and going to the Muggle amusement arcades, just to watch. It had been the summer after Orlando had left him and Luna was afraid he may do 'something silly', as she'd dubbed it. He had thought about it, doing something very silly while he was having a bad spell with the nightmares, but he actually felt a bit relieved. Orlando was a darling, and strong in ways that Neville never thought he was, but he was also very dominant and forceful, and Neville found himself starting to resent him slightly towards the end. His therapist had said that this was something he'd have to address, this need to fall in love with strong personalities, or else he's keep repeating the same pattern over and over. And then there was Draco Malfoy…

Draco was not in the bed with him, which saddened Neville, having felt on cloud nine when he realised where he was upon waking earlier. The realisation that he was in Draco's bed, had felt his arms around him when he woke up in the night, felt his breath in his neck, his stomach going in and out against his back as he breathed… He'd been kissed, and caressed, and made love to, and it had been wonderful…

He had been feeling so much better already last night, after the upset of the weeks before, when he hadn't really been aware of much more than his surroundings (albeit vaguely), the nurses and healers fussing over his wellbeing, and that of the others in the room, and of course the almost constant presence of Draco. It had comforted him a lot - he had been near despair a few times, feeling trapped inside his body, and then he'd feel his presence… He'd heard him talk, to him, or to the healers, and is voice had become a kind of beacon to Neville. His lovely voice… His, and that of the angel that appeared to be with him most of the time. Although that spoke rarely.

He heard a door open and close, footsteps on the boards outside. He was getting familiar with the sounds of the house, having heard them while he was in his bed the first days, resting. The day before yesterday he was feeling much better, and planted himself on the big velvet-covered dark-grey sofa after Draco had brought him breakfast in his bedroom, and he enjoyed the calm of the house. The quiet inside, and the crushing of the waves outside, the dogs that barked as they walked by with their owners, the seabirds, the odd car driving past, and Draco walking on the wooden boards of the veranda. It was all so different than his place in Yorkshire. The old Victorian house that was collapsing and he had no idea where to start with repairs, who to ask, when to fit it in… He could have just booked someone, people that Ron had recommended – Henry Brackett & Co. Timberwizards – but Neville just couldn't make his mind up. As organised as he was with his personal affairs, this kind of thing threw him. He'd always left it to his gran, and courage escaped him as soon as he thought about calling Ron's timberwizards… So he left it, and saw his house fall apart, slowly…

He closed his eyes for a second, willing himself to think of the night before, stopping the agony over the demise of his gran's house from overtaking his happiness, and as soon as he pictured Draco's face he noticed all gloom dissipating. He had touched that face, run his hands gently over the skin, run a thumb along his cheeks, his temple, felt his hair, grabbed it, tenderly, to pull him towards him for a blistering kiss. And he had been happy… No, happy wasn't it… _Blissful_ came much closer…

They had woken up together, about an hour and a half before. Neville had opened his eyes to see Draco stare at him, watching as he must've slept, with a sweet smile on his face. His hair was all mussed, Neville remembered gleefully. He was slightly self-conscious of his own appearance, but that faded when he saw Draco move to touch his face, stroke it carefully and draw near to kiss him, hear him say 'Good morning, my sweet', which sounded so fantastic to Neville. He had smiled back, unable to say anything. He had placed a hand on Draco's chest for a while, and felt his heart beating fast, obviously as excited as he himself had been feeling. They had talked for a while, about what they might do later today, and cuddled and gazed at each other, smiling, and Draco had then told him to go back to sleep, he would go and see if the bakers' was open yet, and he'd get them croissants, and make some coffee. He had kissed him again and got himself dressed. He put on a pair of worn-out jeans, a white t-shirt (which should be forbidden, Neville told him, for the obscene thoughts that came into his mind when he saw Draco in it) and Neville saw him leave the room, after turning to grab a long sleeved shirt off the chair that was near the door, then smile and air-kiss him, and then Neville was alone again. He'd fallen asleep almost immediately, as he was still easily tired, and now that he was awake again, he was keen to have that gorgeous body nearby.

* * *

The spray of the ocean felt invigorating, if not a bit chilly. This must've been the coldest August to memory, Draco thought, as he walked along the shoreline which was in view of his house. But it would do for the mood he had found himself in as soon as he'd left the bedroom, with a slumbering Neville still in his bed.

He hadn't wanted to leave him there, he had been very keen to repeat some of the stuff they'd done the night before – kissing him, and holding him in his arms, and feeling Neville's skin on his body, making each other reach a climax in the beautiful game that making love was becoming. But something made him go. He needed to think, and with Neville in his arms that was impossible.

These feelings were new to Draco. Feelings of exhilaration, and bliss, caused by being with another man, feeling that the world was okay, now that this man, this lovely, sweet, wonderful man was in his life, in his bed, in his arms, in his heart, and he wasn't sure what to make of that. Nobody had made him feel this way before. He wouldn't let them…

Was this normal? Was this what people were supposed to feel? This great? But what if that stopped? This kind of bliss surely wouldn't last forever? Would he be feeling lonely again, and distant, and cold? What if he'd hurt Neville? Break his heart with stuff that came way more natural to Draco than all of this lovey-dovey stuff? Would he be alright? He knew Neville was made of sterner stuff, he'd seen him in action during the war… He'd been quite amazed at the heroism of this unassuming guy, this guy who wouldn't hurt a fly under normal circumstances… He'd taken on Death Eaters… The fuck…

That last thought made him smile – Neville the slayer…

His Neville…

A dog approached him, barking and looking delighted to be allowed off the leash. He knew the dog well, and the woman who owned him, and saw her in the distance, smiling at him, calling for her dog, knowing it had no effect when Draco was in sight.

'Hey, Barney!' Draco yelled when the dog almost reached him. 'How nice to see you, buddy… Come here.' Draco rubbed his fleece as the dog jumped up to greet him. About once a week he'd be doing this, and Barney was so far the only dog he allowed near him. Mainly cos Barney was incredibly tenacious, friendly to match.

'Hey Draco,' the woman said when she'd caught up with her dog. 'Cold this morning, isn't it?'

'Jeez, yeah, hard to think it's summer…' Draco smiled.

'Well, you know – Scotland…' Kiera, as the woman was called, sniggered. 'You okay? Haven't seen you here for a while… Holiday?'

Draco realised that he had indeed not been out onto the beach for a week or two, due to his devotion to Neville's recovery.

'Not quite, no. Long story…' he knew she was a witch, and had most likely heard of the _Infatio _curse, but he wasn't sure that he'd want her to know. He would probably tell her about Neville, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to yet.

'Is it to do with that curse that took that poor guy's life?'

Right… She knew then.

'Partly, yeah. I had to look into it, make sure that… You know…' he found himself stumbling along. 'Also, a friend of mine was cursed, and I wanted to stay near him…'

'Friend? Boyfriend?' Kiera smiled.

'No! Not rea-… Well… Sort of, yeah.'

'Well, is he or isn't he?'

None of your business, Draco wanted to say. I hardly know you… But Kiera had a pleasant way about her, and in the many times they'd met on the beach, they'd developed a quirky connection, purely based on coming across each other there, with Barney as a leaping, almost silent associate. Draco felt himself blush, and didn't look into Kiera's eyes.

'I think so,' he mumbled after a while.

'But you're not sure…' she put a hand on his arm. 'Oh pet… Love's first wonky steps…'

Draco laughed, feeling nervous. 'I like him… A lot. He's sweet, and kind, and I feel really weird when I'm near him… But I don't know how to…'

'_Och_, Draco dear…'

He looked at Kiera, who was all ears, and he knew that she'd listen to him for another hour, but he suddenly felt a bit daft, talking to this sixty-odd year old witch, who's dog was racing around the sand like it was chased by a flock of Dementors, so he stopped talking.

'I was with a guy once, years ago,' Kiera carried on, seeing the doubt in Draco's eyes. 'And he was the same as you… All proud and reserved and really good looking, and I loved being with him… I always felt safe, like he'd protect me against anything. And we were really good together, for a long time. The only thing that he had trouble with, and that was our downfall in the end, was that he would never tell me, or show me, that he loved me… He just couldn't… Too much happened in his childhood, I found out later, and I thought I could love for both of us… But you just can't keep that going…' she smiled at him again. 'Don't let your past get in the way of this guy, Draco…'

Draco smiled back, doubt still hanging around.

'Yes, but what if I hurt him, like your husband did to you?'

'Partner – we were never married…' Kiera looked out over the water for a while. 'But what if you don't?'

'I've never had a proper relationship before… Not felt anything like I do for Nevi-… For this guy…'

'This crazy thing called love…' Kiera sang.

'Yeah, that,' Draco smiled. 'What if I fuck it up?'

'Neville… Longbottom, you mean?' Kiera looked at Draco incessantly, who nodded, surprised, 'I knew his parents, well his mum, Alice… If he's anything like them, you've got a good one there, Draco Malfoy… He's brave, from what I heard… And he'll need to be if he's going to love _you_…'

The both laughed, and Draco made a facial expression of understanding what she meant.

'He'll be fine, he's a tough cookie, he's been loved plenty in his younger years… Now you be brave, and allow that heart of yours to melt a bit…' she moved her hand to put it on Draco's chest. 'Give it time. He'll help you, I'm sure…'

'Okay,' Draco croaked, ready to weep. 'Maybe you're right…'

'Maybe?!' she laughed out loud. Then she put an arm around him, squeezed him a bit. 'Stop thinking so much… That gets in the way of what you feel…'

Barney had by now calmed a bit, and Kiera whistled for him to go back to the car.

'Thanks, Kiera… I needed that…'

He waved as she wandered off to the place where she'd parked her car, gave Barney one last cuddle and slowly walked back to the house, allowing the spray of the crashing waves to make him get wet. _Allow your heart to melt_… Hm… How does that work then?

_Stop thinking_…

Okay… That was new…

He looked at the house, his house, which looked great as the morning sun shone on it.

'Croissants,' he said to himself. 'I promised him croissants…'

* * *

Neville had poured himself a third cup of tea from the big white teapot when he heard a car door slam in the distance. He was sitting on one of the high chairs by the big wooden table in the kitchen (which was surprisingly cosy, with lots of wooden features and postcards from all over the world stuck on cabinet doors and hanging from shelves), pensively running a finger over the rim of the cup. Draco had been gone for a long time, and he was starting to worry. He'd probably changed his mind about them, done a runner… It was stupid of him to think that Draco Malfoy was going to fall in love with him. Commit to _him_… He may have sat by his bed for a week, but that could well have been guilt, or some misplaced sense of obligation… What reason did he have to want more from Neville than a bit of fun, like last night?

Oh well. He should probably think about having a shower, wash off the sweat and the kisses, the invisible marks of the intimacy shared. Get himself dressed, and ready for a day of silence, of awkward glances, and maybe he should think of going back to his house in Yorkshire. He had been well enough for sex…

The back door opened, and in walked Draco with a paper bag from the local baker's, and a plastic bag with some other groceries in it. He took off his shoes and nudged them into the corner.

'Hey! You're up!' Draco beamed when he noticed Neville sitting at the table. He put the bags on the worktop and walked up to him, his coat still on, the cold from outside hanging around him. He leaned forward and laid his lips on Neville's, all cool and tasting of the ocean. Neville let him, felt his own lips melt with Draco's, and he sighed with relief. No runner then, just this.

_Just this_… Nothing _just this_ about this kiss… As none of Draco's kisses were _just a kiss_, so far.

After a bit he pulled away, and stroked Neville's face.

'I was going to surprise you with coffee and these croissants…' he said, pretending to be disappointed.

'Well, you were ages, and I was gasping for a drink…' Neville mocked being hacked off.

'I'm so sorry, Nev… I got chatting with Kiera, who walks her dog on the beach here…' Draco pulled a sulky lip, which made Neville laugh, and pull his host closer to him by the lapels of his jacket, 'can you forgive me?'

'Maybe…' Neville tried to look stern, then smiled and moved his lips closer to Draco's and when they touched, he had no idea what he was thinking any more, apart from how nice those lips tasted, how much he enjoyed letting his tongue lightly roam over Draco's lips, feel his teeth, and the warm, moist insides of his mouth. There was nothing better he could imagine at that exact moment…

He tasted Draco's yearning, or whatever he'd call it. He felt his tongue move gently inside his mouth, playful, deepening the kiss intensely. He groaned a bit, cos he couldn't help it, and that appeared to be a cue for Draco, who wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly, and Neville felt the warmth of that, as his own body responded in kind. Draco took off his jacket, and dropped it on the chair next to them, never letting go of Neville's mouth, smiling through it. He parted his legs so that Draco could get closer and made sure he was holding on again, getting extremely aroused by the feel of those jeans erotically grinding against his groin. He felt a hand in his hair, other hand on his neck, sliding down to touch underneath his t-shirt, and after a few seconds Neville lifted his arms so that it would easily slide off his body. He then did the same with that wicked white shirt he'd seen Draco put on earlier, revealing that upper body again, and his kisses lead him downward, from Draco's neck to his chest, on to his stomach, and he revelled in the delights of his oversensitive mouth on warm skin. He heard Draco make little sounds, somewhere in the distance, and that set him off completely.

'Do you want to…' Draco's deep voice murmured, looking in the direction of his bedroom.

'No,' breathed Neville, not letting go of anything he was embracing.

'You mean here, in my kitchen…' Draco whispered, looking Neville in the eyes, grinning wickedly.

Neville nodded, gazing back, raising an eyebrow in the most suggestive way possible, which made Draco whimper, then latch back onto his lips, and Neville couldn't believe the eagerness he was kissed with.

He let his hand slide over the front of Draco's jeans, hell-bent on taking it off, which Draco was quite happy to help him with. He undid the button at the top and left Neville to do the zip, relishing the feeling of being helped out of his garments, one by one, in the meantime kissing and panting for breath. He moved a hand towards Neville's shorts, slid it inside, touching his behind, then moving his hand around and felt how ready he was for release.

Kneeling down in front of him, he set about relieving Neville, who had slipped off the chair, threw his head back in ecstasy, moaned like his life depended on it, holding Draco's head as he writhed and moved along in the slow rhythm that his lover was dictating. Draco couldn't believe the filthy groan he heard when he came, how that was probably heard by whoever was walking their dog on the shore right then.

Neville couldn't believe he was this unabashed, felt the beginning of shame well up from somewhere deep down, but at the same time loved the way it made him feel. Jesus Christ… If sex with Draco was going to be like this every time, they could scoop him up by next week…

He saw Draco move up and grin mischievously at him, then take him in his arms and hug him tightly.

'Oh man, that was worth everything I own, Neville Longbottom, hearing you come like that…' Draco whispered in his ear. Neville never felt so embarrassed before in his life.

* * *

The next couple of days were spent in much the same fashion, getting to know each other a bit better all the time, often in bed, but also going for long walks by the ocean, talking to each other over mealtimes, getting in some shopping in the nearby village, leaving each other be for amounts of time, and snuggling up on the sofa together, reading, or listening to music. Draco not really believing that he could feel this happy.

He was caressing Neville, who's head was resting on his lap while he sat on the sofa, dozing off after a long walk in strong wind and some rain, holding his hand having studied it for minutes, pressing light kisses on it, now threading his fingers through them. Suddenly the words Kiera spoke to him a few days earlier floated into his mind, annoyingly clear, and he thought about things to make them go away. They weren't going to budge, he noticed. He closed his eyes for a second, brought Neville's hand back up to his mouth, and stroking his head, as it was lying on his legs. His silky dark hair fell languidly on the arm of the sofa, over his jeans, and Draco ran some fingers through it. God, he was beautiful, he thought. When did that happen? What did that matter, now that he here, snoozing? Now that life was so sweet…

He winced at the thought of how bored he had been getting with the dating scene, how shallow the hooking up with admittedly good looking blokes (and at times really average ones) was becoming, never getting to know more of each other than very superficial nothingness. He was ready to chuck in dating anybody at all, had he not found that even getting to know a bit of Neville in the past weeks was enough to restore his hopes…

He carried on looking at Neville sleeping, and felt a rush of warmth and affection course through his body. Uncontrollable, and with a force he'd never felt before. Care, tenderness – Draco was unaware of the tears that rolled down his cheeks, as if a vessel had been opened, and he just had to ride this one. Was this what he'd been missing all his life?

He closed his eyes again, aware of the tears now, and he let them come, roll down his face, into his shirt, and he saw that angel again, the one that spoke to him in the disused bathroom in St. Mungo's. He saw her smile, kindly, and Draco smiled back. Then she floated away, and he opened his eyes, ready for whatever came next.

He looked down, and saw Neville smile up at him.

'You okay?' he said, caring. 'Looks like you've cried…' He moved up to be able to touch Draco, comfort him.

'Yeah, I'm fine… you go back to sleep,' Draco answered, taken aback by the way Neville just looking up at him made him feel. How can a look be that intimate? How much has he missed out on in all these years…?

'Nah, I'm alright…' Neville was sitting up by now, looking at him, trying to figure him out. 'You've been crying… What's the matter?'

Draco felt slightly silly for having Neville run a thumb along his temple, looking him in the eyes, full of concern. Like his mother used to, twenty years ago… What should he do now? Show him that he wasn't in control? Surrender his autonomy?

'I'm fine, Nev… Just thinking about some stuff… Nothing important…' Draco smiled, apparently convincingly, cos Neville smiled back.

'Talk to me if there is something, Draco, yeah? If I can help…'

'There is nothing, really…' Draco needed to steer this conversation in another direction, he felt. 'Coffee? Or shall I make a start on dinner?'

'Nah I'm fine for now… Not hungry… For food anyway…'

Draco just smiled at what he was insinuation, but didn't go into it. He wasn't particularly in that mood. To his amazement…

'Were you thinking about your family?' Neville carried on after a short silence. He'd pulled his legs up in such a way that he was snuggled up close to Draco, and that felt really rather comfortable. His hand was in Draco's, and his head leaning on his shoulder. He could get used to this…

'No, not really. I do think about my mother quite a bit, but I don't worry so much about her. I told her the other day that I'd met someone that I'm feeling quite serious about and…' he stopped there for a bit. Had he just told Neville that he was _serious_ about him?

He felt a kiss in his neck.

'You mean that?' he heard whispered, and his skin tickled.

'Uh-huh…' Draco couldn't see Neville's face, and was curious to see what the expression on it was. Neville was very easy to read.

'And was she okay with that? Did you tell her it was me?'

'I did, actually. She just wouldn't let up when I said I was seeing someone, and that I really liked this person, and she just wouldn't stop asking me until I told her a name,' Draco's voice had become quiet. Telling his mother had been a big deal for him, not because he worried about her views on him being gay (like most wizards he knew she wasn't bothered at all), but he was a little bit apprehensive about what she might have to say about Neville.

'And what did she say?'

'She said: '_Neville Longbottom? Wasn't he the one that challenged Lord Voldemort right at the end? And then went on to behead that hideous snake?_'' he'd altered his voice a little to make it sound more feminine, and Neville sniggered at what he heard.

'Did she really say that?'

'Yeah. She likes you, I bet… Wants to meet you…'

What?! She wants to meet me?' Neville sounded panicky. 'You are joking, right?'

'No, I'm not… She was dead serious… She said: I liked the cut of his jib back at Hogwarts, and I'm quite astonished he chose to be with you… I can't wait to meet this remarkable man…'

Neville had moved so that he could look Draco in the eye.

'Your mum wants to meet me? When?'

'I don't know, we haven't arranged a time yet. I said that I'd run it past you first…'

'Merlin, Draco…'

'It's only my mother…'

'Only your mother?! Only your mother…?!'

'Neville, you're not saying you're intimidated by my mother?' Draco turned to smile in astonishment at the man on his side.

'Um, I know she's your mum, and that you love her and all that, but she used to freak the sh-… I think I preferred some basilisks on some days…'

'My mother? Really?'

'Yes, really…' Neville looked at Draco earnestly. 'She and your dad… They were like some sort of wizard terror squad to me…'

Draco was laughing out loud now, gesturing to Neville that he really couldn't help himself. 'I'm so sorry, my darling… I didn't…' and he was laughing again… 'My mother…'

'Glad you think it was funny…'

'It is… And you'll see what i mean, once you get to know her… She's fine, Nev… She's a real darling… She's the reason I'm able to feel anything remotely resembling love…' again he stopped mid-sentence.

'Carry on…' Neville was looking into his eyes again, willing him to speak his feelings.

'No, it's alright…'

'Remotely resembling love… you were saying…'

Draco felt himself blush liberally, then felt Neville's hand on his face, making it turn his way, and he did all he could to not meet his eyes.

'It's okay, Draco… You won't be eaten by a Hungarian Horntail if you admit to those feelings… I've never heard of it happen thus far, anyway…'

He then glanced up and looked into Neville's hazel eyes, and he felt that jolt in his abdomen again. A warm glow followed, and he knew that there was no going back.

'You absolutely sure?' he tried to ease the tension he was feeling.

He saw Neville had put his head on the back of the sofa, still intently looking at him, smiling, and he smiled back.

'Neville Longbottom… Somehow you've managed to break my resolve never to become one of those soppy blokes that…'

Another smile… How did that smile make him feel so incredibly daft?

'Draco, I've never felt this way about anybody before, if that makes you feel any better…' Neville whispered, his head still askew, hazel eyes gazing into his own. His smile revealing a row of lovely teeth.

'I feel too self-conscious now...' Draco giggled. 'It's like you're making me say it, and I can't…'

'Maybe I can help you with that a bit,' Neville whispered, and moved his hand to grab his head, gently moving it so that his mouth could catch Draco's. The sensation of that was exquisite, and Draco relaxed into it some more. Neville's lips were soft, and moist, and they managed to undo him in seconds. He opened his mouth slightly, giving Neville's tongue the space to slide in, and he felt himself heat up quickly. How did a kiss like that make him feel so alive, so incredible? All he wanted was to touch Neville, to feel his naked body on his, his hands caressing him, his gaze comforting him… Nothing else would be enough. Not after this time with this wretched thing called love…

He slid his hand inside Neville's shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath, and carried on kissing him, no desire to do anything else for the next few days. That would be great – to be able to kiss Neville for ever… He couldn't stifle a laugh, and that broke the spell slightly.

'What?' Neville asked quietly, not moving his mouth very far away.

'Nothing… Just wondered what it would be like if I could just carry on snogging you like this… For ever…'

'Sounds good to me…' They kissed some more, until Draco moved back slightly, enough to catch Neville's eyes. He looked into them, mustering up the nerve to say what he was feeling, and just decided to throw caution to the wind.

'Neville… I feel… I need to…' he rubbed his eyes, for a bit more time, feeling Neville's hands squeeze the side of his body, where it'd been lying. 'Neville, I love you… So fucking much…'

Neville smiled, no beamed at him, and moved in for a searing kiss, which pushed Draco into the corner of the sofa.

'I know…' he heard a deep voice in his neck rumble. It sounded nothing like any kind of angel in heaven, but it delighted Draco more than anything he'd ever heard.

* * *

**_author's note: this will be followed by an epilogue... i think... don't want to stop writing about these two... any thoughts?_**


End file.
